One Police Plaza

An internal family affair gone bad?

April 1, 2005

When pitcher Pedro Martinez was hammered by the Yankees, the cry among Yankee fans was, "Who's your daddy?"

When Deputy Inspector June Martucci announced her retirement after retracting assault allegations against her husband, Capt. Shaun Roberts, the cry among cops was, "Who's your uncle?"

Specifically, the whispers at One Police Plaza are that Martucci - the third-ranking official in the Internal Affairs Bureau - is the niece of IAB Chief Charles Campisi. Police sources say Martucci is not Campisi's niece or any other relation. But is she getting special treatment?

In December, Martucci said Roberts struck her shortly after she gave birth and she discovered communications between him and his ex-wife. The department came down hard on Roberts. He was placed on modified duty, had his gun removed and his department car taken away. He was forced to wait outside One Police Plaza while others attended meetings for him. He was also transferred to Queens for some highway therapy.

But now Martucci says she was mistaken about what occurred. She says her thought process was clouded due to postpartum depression and that her injuries occurred accidentally. She now refuses to testify against her husband and claims the Brooklyn district attorney's office harassed her.

Martucci told police officials she was insulted by the district attorney's domestic violence bureau chief, who said to her: "He two-timed you. What kind of a woman are you?"

"Did you charge him with assault or adultery?" she replied.

Police sources say IAB filed formal charges against the bureau chief, although district attorney spokesman Morty Matz denies charges were filed.

Complicating matters, under former police Commissioner Howard Safir, the NYPD instituted a policy whereby lying can be grounds for dismissal. Martucci's turnaround set off howls from the rank and file that she was being protected.

Martucci denies she lied or was forced to retire. "Retiring was a personal matter. I retired to care for my son."

Is Louie loco (con't)? So former Chief of Department Louis Anemone is suing the Metropolitan Transportation Authority for firing him after he reported a series of corruption scandals.

"Instead of being honored for his exemplary service," his suit alleges, "Mr. Anemone was severely punished and defamed, all because he refused to stand by while others at the MTA turned a blind eye to the corruption that permeated every level of the agency."

There's only one problem: The Queens and Manhattan district attorneys say Anemone and his NYPD chum Det. Nick Casale, who followed Anemone to the MTA, manufactured a confidential informant to buttress their corruption claims.

Two years ago, Queens District Attorney Richard Brown issued the following statement: "In spite ... of the repeated assurances of both Mr. Casale and Mr. Anemone that those allegations were based upon information received by them from a confidential informant, it has now been acknowledged by each of them that no such informant has ever existed."

Similar sentiments were stated by Dan Castleman, chief of investigations for the Manhattan district attorney.

Both prosecutors stood firm.

"We stand with Judge Brown. There were very troubling aspects of their conduct. We haven't changed our minds," Castleman said.

Real tears. Forget Bernard Kerik's bawling in New York magazine about having to leave Rudolph Giuliani's employ after his nomination for homeland security director went south and his personal and professional life imploded. Here now are some real reasons Kerik might be crying.

Without a job or Ground Zero crash pad for his two mistresses, he'll be stuck at home explaining to his wife all those late-night emergencies he was called out on, even after he was no longer commissioner.

With all the omissions about what he was really doing at Ground Zero after Sept. 11, 2001, his autobiography "The Lost Son" may be moved from the bestseller category of nonfiction to fiction.

He might become the first person in state history to be jailed in a facility that bears his name.

©2005 Newsday, Inc.Reprinted with permission.